Married to my father's enemy

The last voicemail my father left me ended with a scream.

I didn't know how many times I'd listened to it over the past three months. Twenty? Fifty? Maybe a hundred? The recording was only seventeen seconds long, but it had become the center of my universe.

"Aria, sweetheart, I'm running late tonight. Don't wait for me. Tell your mother I'll..."

Then a loud crash, heavy breathing and then a scream that still clawed at my chest every time I heard it.

The message was cut off after that. I stared at my phone screen with my thumb hovering over the replay button, but I couldn't bring myself to listen again, at least not tonight.

Outside, rain battered the windows of our tiny apartment, turning Silvercrest City into a blur of gray lights but inside, the silence was somehow worse.

On the kitchen counter sat unpaid bills, three final warnings from the electricity company and an eviction notice folded neatly beside a half-empty bottle of my mother's medication.

Just fourteen days left before we lost our home. I squeezed my eyes shut in agony.

"Please," I whispered to nobody. "Just let something go right for once."

The universe didn't answer. From the next room came the sound of my mother coughing. I quickly shoved the eviction notice under a stack of newspapers before walking into her room.

She sat by the window, wrapped in a blanket, staring out into the rain.

"Mom, you should be sleeping." I whispered.

Grace Bennett smiled weakly. "Did your father call?"

The question hit me like a knife, every night she asked the same question and every night I replied with the same lie.

"Not yet," I replied softly, sitting on the edge of her bed and taking her hand. Her fingers were cold, thin, the bones too prominent beneath her skin.

Her eyes drifted back to the window. "He'll come home."

I wished I believed that but three months ago, my father had left for work and vanished. The police said he was probably hiding somewhere, his company stopped looking after two weeks and his friends stopped calling after a month.

But my mother still sat by the window every evening, waiting for headlights that never appeared.

"Of course he will," I lied again, squeezing her hand gently. "He probably just got held up with something. You know how Dad is."

"I'll make some tea," I whispered again.

She nodded absent-mindedly.

Back in the kitchen, I opened the cupboard and found exactly two tea bags. Perfect. My life was becoming more like a comedy written by someone who hated me.

I laughed bitterly and sank onto the floor, my back scrubbed against the cabinet.

The rent was overdue, the electricity would be cut off next week, my mother's heart medication was running out and my father was gone.

The weight of it all crashed over me at once and for the first time in weeks, I let myself cry. It wasn't the quiet tears I'd mastered over the years, it was real, ugly tears.

A knock on the door startled me, I opened my eyes and for a moment, I didn't know where I was then another knock, three times. I glanced at the clock on the microwave.

11:47 p.m. Who the hell visits people at midnight? My mother had fallen asleep in her room. Curiosity got the better of me and I opened the door.

An older man stood in the hallway, perfectly dressed in a black suit despite the rain outside. His silver hair was neatly combed and he held a leather briefcase in one hand.

He looked completely out of place in our crumbling apartment building.

"Aria Bennett?" He asked.

I tightened my grip on the door, my senses suddenly on high alert. Strangers didn't come to our door at midnight. A stranger who knows my name. "Who's asking?"

He offered a polite nod. "My name is Richard."

"Okay... Richard who?"

"I work for Mr. Ethan Blackwood."

The name punched the air from my lungs. Everyone knew Ethan Blackwood, the billionaire CEO, a movie star and the heir to the Blackwood empire. His face was plastered on magazine covers and billboards across the city. Women swooned over him. Men envied him.

"What does Ethan Blackwood want with me?"

Something unreadable flashed across the old man's face. "He has a proposal."

"A proposal?"

Richard opened his briefcase, inside was a thick stack of papers and a silver pen. I stared at him and wondered if I'd somehow fallen asleep on the kitchen floor and was still dreaming.

"What is this?"

"A marriage contract."

I blinked, convinced I'd misheard him. "I'm sorry... what?"

"One year of marriage to Mr. Ethan Blackwood."

The silence that followed was almost funny, then I laughed, not because it was amusing but because it was insane.

"You've got the wrong apartment."

"I assure you, Miss Bennett, I don't."

I stepped back, ready to slam the door in his face. "Look, I'm not interested in whatever joke this is."

"It's not a joke."

He pulled a document from the briefcase and handed it to me. At the top, in bold letters, were the words:

CONTRACT MARRIAGE AGREEMENT

My stomach twisted. "Why me?"

"That isn't my place to answer."

"Then tell Mr. Blackwood to find someone else."

Richard didn't move, then he replied slowly. "All your debts will be paid."

I froze and he continued.

"Your mother's medical bills, the overdue rent, the loans your father left behind. One year." Richard continued quietly. "Your family will never worry about money again."

I stared at the papers in my hand, this wasn't real, it couldn't be. Nobody offered millions to marry a stranger. Nobody.

There had to be a catch, there always was. "Why?" I whispered.

Richard looked away for the first time. "I can't answer that."

My eyes drifted to the kitchen counter, there laid the eviction notice, the unpaid bills, and the medicine my mother desperately needed. Then there was my father, gone without a trace.

I thought of my mother sleeping in the next room, waiting for a man who might never come home. What choice did I have? Slowly, I picked up the pen. It was just a contract.

Richard watched me carefully.

"If I sign this..."

"Your problems disappear." He replied.

My hand trembled, my problems never disappeared, problems like mine simply changed shape.

"Where do I sign?"

For the first time since he'd arrived, something like sadness crossed Richard's face, he pointed to the last page and I signed my name.

Aria Bennett.

The ink hadn't even dried when regret crashed into me. What had I just done?

Richard carefully closed the briefcase. "A car will arrive tomorrow morning at eight."

I nodded numbly, then he turned to leave.

"Wait!" I called him back. "One question."

Richard looked back at me.

"Do you know where my father is?"

For the first time that night, the old man's composure cracked, but only for a second, I saw it. He lowered his eyes.

"Mr. Blackwood asked me not to answer that."

Cold fear spread through my chest. "What does that mean?"

Richard stepped into the hallway. "Get some rest, Miss Bennett."

"Richard!"

He paused. "Tomorrow, your life will change forever."

Then he walked away.

I stood frozen in the doorway long after the elevator doors closed.

Behind me, thunder shook the apartment and in my hand, the marriage contract felt heavier than stone. Then I realized eerily that somewhere, in a place I couldn't see, a man I'd never met was waiting for me.

****

Daniel Bennett was chained to a chair while Ethan Blackwood was standing in that dark basement over him, staring at him like a vulture hungry for meat.

Aria's father.

Blood dripped from Daniel Bennett's split lip as he struggled to lift his head. Ethan crouched in front of him with a cold expression and a phone pressed against his ear.

"She signed?"

Richard's voice crackled through the phone. "Yes, sir."

For the first time in fifteen years, Ethan smiled although cruel and broken, it was a smile.

He reached down and grabbed Daniel's chin.

"Good."

Daniel Bennett's eyes widened in horror, Ethan stood and walked toward the door but before leaving, he looked back.

"Tomorrow," he said quietly, "your daughter becomes my wife."

Then he slammed the metal door shut.

Daniel Bennett screamed his daughter's name.

"Aria!"